


[t'es belle]

by LtTanyaBoone



Category: Cardinal (TV 2017)
Genre: Bisexual Female Character, F/F, discussion of sexual orientations
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-14
Updated: 2018-05-14
Packaged: 2019-10-23 10:41:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,012
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17681912
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LtTanyaBoone/pseuds/LtTanyaBoone
Summary: Cardinal wants to talk to Delorme about something Kelly told him, but he can't quite figure out a way to bring it up.





	[t'es belle]

**Author's Note:**

> i was feeling down and what better way to fix my mood, than by writing some delorme/other fic, where she ends up with another woman
> 
> also, this is tv show compliant, though i took the liberty of using szelagy from the books. bc i like the guy. takes place after s2.
> 
> import from tumblr

It's, difficult.

One, he doesn't quite know how to say it. Doesn't know what words to use, how to even broach the subject with her.

Two, he isn't sure if Kelly is okay with this. It's her life, really. But he, he wants to, understand. He wants to do the right things. Wants to use the right words, wants to make sure that he doesn't say something offensive, or hurtful.

Three, they don't talk about this sort of stuff. Not really, that is. Delorme, she's his partner. They work together, sometimes they vent a little, about their private lives. But it's always surface level stuff, never goes deep into what is really affecting them. And he has the general sense that she won't like it, if he approaches her about this. Not like this, especially, not out of the blue.

But then he sees her duck her head a little as she talks to one of the constables. The motion catches his attention, because it's accompanied by her crossing her arms. She doesn't turn away or drop the conversation. No, her body is still facing the uniformed cop as they talk. And then he does a double take, because he could swear he actually sees the constable blush, and there's this shy smile on Delorme's lips, and John has no idea where he took a wrong turn and stumbled into the Twilight Zone.

Lise Delorme, flirting, with another cop. A uniformed cop. A female uniformed cop. And that's not even the strangest thing about this. The strangest thing is that she looks happier than she has in months as she does it.

* * *

Her name is Annabelle Roche. Cardinal knows her badge number, knows everything her file had to offer to him. She's a couple months older than Delorme, enough to mean that she was a year above her at school. Oh yes, those two, they attended school together. Probably moved in the same circles as kids, as well, since they're both the children of Francos.

It's strange. He's never paid much attention to Roche before. He knew her face, of course. They've run into each other a few times, worked on a couple cases together, but never directly with each other.

When Delorme first started at CIS, he got the sense that she kept her private life very guarded. When Josh had shown up at work, she'd seemed incredibly uncomfortable. He'd figured it was because she was investigating him and was afraid that her husband would say something and give away the real reason for her transfer. He'd ended up doing just that, in the end, but then again, it took him a couple weeks, and a few drinks, to let that piece of information slip.

As he watches her now, John is starting to think there was a different reason, for how uncomfortable Delorme had seemed. The way he'd never really seen her and Josh touch, hadn't seen them kiss at all.

It's starting to get annoying, actually. The way Delorme is smiling at her work. The way she now has the radio on in her car when they're driving somewhere. How she will sometimes hum a melody under her breath. It's always one of those French songs that play on the annoying pop station her car radio is set to. John doesn't understand any of the words to it, doesn't get what they're about, or why someone would willingly listen to them. It's bad enough he has to listen to them in the car, but to be exposed to them when he's trying to read over surveillance tape transcripts and Delorme is bobbing her head absentmindedly as she types a report is just pushing things a little bit too far, for his liking.

He tries to remember, if he ever was like this. When he'd first started dating Catherine, when they'd started going out with each other. Okay, he'd been a lot younger then. Younger than Delorme is now. A teenager, early twenties, totally understandable to be so excited, about being in love. Delorme? She's what, mid-thirties? And she's humming what he assumes are cheesy love songs under her breath and grinning stupidly and shows up in the same very rumpled outfit two days in a row.

* * *

They're speaking French.

That might end up what makes him finally snap.

Not that Delorme is humming that same damn melody for the third day in a row. Not that she tortures him with it in the line at the sandwich stand they end up at, to grab a quick bite for lunch.

It's not even that she invites Roche to join them when the Constable stumbles upon them. She hesitates and gives Cardinal a questioning look, and he bites back a sigh and motions for her to go ahead and have a seat. Figures he can indulge Delorme a bit. She's been on fire today, lots of useful ideas, and he’s been enjoying working with her.

Roche's accent is a little stronger than Delorme's. Cardinal thinks it might be because she went to college in Montreal, instead of staying local, like Delorme did. Also, Delorme used to date an English guy, and spoke English a lot at home during that period. Not that he knows anything about Roche's past dating life. He is completely certain, however, that these two are currently very much acquainted with each other's dating habits. Because they are dating each other.

Roche's radio flickers to life and she answers, following it up with something French, after she's signed off again. It makes Delorme let out a snort, and has her commenting in French. And Cardinal thinks that for the nine minutes the two women spend chatting with each other animatedly, they don't even realize they are doing it in French.

Maybe he should clear his throat, remind them that he's still here. Or rather, that they're not alone. Because the way that Roche is leaning forward against the table, the way that Delorme is mirroring it, is making him doubt that these two are aware of their surroundings, right now.

"We better get going again," he finally speaks up. He finished his lunch fifteen minutes ago. Delorme stopped with the pretense of eating hers almost twenty minutes ago, yet here they still are.

Roche actually jumps a little. And then blushes, furiously, from the roots of her dark hair down to her uniform collar. Inclines her head and stands as she says she should return to her own tasks, as well.

In the car - his, because he is not listening to another one of those goddamn pop songs - Delorme buckles herself into the passenger seat with a soft sigh. Rests her elbow on the middle console and runs a hand through her hair as he pulls into traffic. At the third intersection, she's humming under her breath again.

* * *

"Don't," Delorme says, before he can even open his mouth. And honestly, he wouldn't have. Wouldn't have said anything, wouldn't have dared to comment on her flushed state, the slightly swollen lips, the blush coloring her cheeks, the disheveled state of her hair and the absence of any makeup.

"Busy evening?"

Cardinal wouldn't have commented. But not only was McLeod going to, no, he also figured it was a good idea to ignore the warning given by the female detective.

Sometimes, Cardinal pities the other man. But other times, he figures he really has it coming. So he just ducks his head a little and takes a step back as Delorme whirls around to glare murder at the poor man.

McLeod opens his mouth, but doesn't manage to say anything. Just closes it again and John can see his Adam's apple move as he swallows hard.

"I give you the impression that I am in particularly good mood, right now?" Delorme asks him, and John blinks at the thickness of her accent at the beginning of her sentence. She sounds like that, sometimes, when she's been talking to witnesses in French for a while.

"Not really," McLeod allows, his brows creasing a little as he tries to work out if that question was rhetorical and he'd have been better off not answering it.

"Then perhaps it would be best not to piss me off, hein?" she suggests, her voice holding a sharp edge. Delorme gives him another glare, before she turns to Cardinal and asks him what they have, and he starts to fill her in on the details of the case that they've discovered so far.

It's almost two hours later, when Delorme passes him yet again, that he realizes that this is definitely not her perfume.

* * *

He's still not worked out a good way to bring up the topic, with her, but then Kelly says she will visit him for the weekend, and he knows he's running out of time, and fast.

So he grabs a bottle of whiskey and drives over to Delorme's place.

The light's on, and there's music coming from inside, so he knocks loudly, in addition to ringing the bell. The music shuts off, and he can hear giggling, and does a double-take at the door.

Lise Delorme __giggles__?

She does. She also wears oversized hockey shirts and shorts (at least he hopes she is wearing shorts somewhere under there) and grins when she opens the door. And freezes, once she recognizes him.

"John," she breathes and pulls herself up a little.

"Lise, qui est-ce?" a female voice inquires from within the house, sounding amused.

He watches as she closes her eyes for a moment, her shoulders slumping. Holds up a hand with her index finger stretched out, telling him to give her a moment.

"C'est Cardinal," she calls back, sounding a little strained.

There's the sound of glass hitting glass and a shuffle, and some French cursing, followed by Roche poking her head around the door.

She is definitely wearing shorts. And a very tight light gray tank top, declaring "THE RCMP CAN KISS MY A--".

It's a nice touch, he thinks, harboring no feelings of love towards the Mounties, himself.

"Bonsoir," Roche breathes, and Cardinal opens his mouth to greet her, as well, when she looks at Lise, completely out of her element, and her dark hair moves, exposing a view of where her neck meets her shoulder. Where a rather impressive hickey is blooming, the skin around it still red.

And here he'd been hoping that he could just pretend to never know what these two got up to, with each other.

"I, should have called," he offers weakly. Delorme tries to wave it off, but her face is currently stuck in an expression of deep discomfort and embarrassment, so he doesn't buy that for a second.

"Come on in," she tells him and takes a step aside to allow him into her house. He hesitates, for a second. He really, really needs to talk to her. About, precisely this sort of stuff. But he's also very much aware of what he probably just interrupted, and that he pretty much ruined her evening.

"You know what," he says, instead of taking a step forward, "I think I'll just, leave this, with you," he tells her and holds out the bottle of whiskey. Delorme takes it, her brows dipping in confusion.

"Consider it my, apology, for showing up unannounced," he tells her. "I'll see you, at work," he adds, before nodding at Roche, and then turning and beating a rather hasty retreat.

So much for that attempt.

* * *

He figures he owes her another apology. It's just, he really doesn't know how to bring it up, without making it awkward.

They're not, like this. They don't talk about what they do, outside of work. Don't discuss their dating habits, don't talk about flings or significant others. Not that John really has anything to share in that department, anyway. But even if he did, he wouldn't. Maybe because he's a chauvinist, a sexist, but Delorme, she's a woman. She's not just 'one of the guys'. Talking to her about relationships, that's bound to be very different, and he really wouldn't even know where to begin with navigating that difference.

He knows she keeps looking at him. Short glances, soft frowns, the barest catching of her breath when he catches Dyson's attention, before Delorme realizes that this is about a possible search warrant, and not her private affairs.

He thinks there are about ten cops, at the precinct, who might call themselves gay. John doesn't have any issues with them. Okay, he isn't particularly fond, of one of them, but that's due to the guy being an asshole and a shit cop. Has nothing to do with his dating preferences, really.

* * *

He finally manages to stammer out a request, for a conversation. A private one. Watches, as Delorme swallows, hard, before she inclines her head. Says that they can meet up, after work. John suggests his place. Thinks she might be more comfortable, with the knowledge that she can leave at any time, and not have to worry about kicking him out of her house.

She shows up almost half an hour after he got home, himself. Looks, apprehensive, and nervous. He's never noticed how, when she does, her skin gets a bit pale, and her freckles stand out. Never really noticed those freckles before, either.

"This, isn't about, the other night," he tells her as they've sat down, him in the armchair, and her on his couch, cradling a tumbler of whiskey. Delorme tilts her head slightly, and lets out a sigh of relief.

"It's, about Kelly, actually," he starts and frowns into his own glass of alcohol. Takes a sip, in an attempt to get some liquid courage. "You know, when you two first met, she told me you are, and I quote, 'hot'."

It makes Delorme splutter and she lets out a cough before catching her breath. Maybe he should have timed that better, he thinks. Not have said it when she'd just been drinking.

"Okay?" she murmurs, frowning in confusion. John swallows, and sets down his glass. Rubs a hand over his eyes before he lets it fall away and sighs loudly.

He tells her he wants to do the right thing. Tells Delorme that he's terrified, of saying something wrong, of making a bad comment, and losing his daughter because of it. She's, Kelly. She's all he has left, of Catherine, and he loves her, loves her so much. He watched her grow, from a tiny little baby, into this young, wonderful young woman, and he wants to see her grow even more. Wants to see her happy, wants to see her find what she's looking for, and enjoy her life.

"I'm not sure I follow," Delorme frowns and sets down her own glass. "I thought you were, close."

"We are," John nods, his brows dipping into a frown. "At least I thought we were," he adds. "I thought she told me, everything. Not the little stuff, I get that, you know, people need to have some secrets, from their parents. But I figured that the big stuff, I knew about all of it."

Delorme swallows and shifts.

"And now you're thinking you don't," she realizes. "Look, it's, been a while, since I was Kelly's age," she tells him. "But I don't think that the secrets she may keep, from you, have anything to do with her not trusting you."

"They do," he insists. Swallows, hard. "Otherwise, she would have told me years ago that she's gay."

It's fascinating, to watch Delorme's face go through all these emotions. At first, there's a shocked look of surprise. Then she frowns, briefly, and gives a little shake of her head, before her face softens, and there's the briefest hint of a smile that flickers across her face, before she sobers.

"Does Kelly know, that you're telling me this?" she asks, and John finds himself frowning.

"No," he slowly shakes his head. "No, I thought-"

"I'm going to stop you right there," Delorme tells him, her voice soft. "I am not discussing your daughter and her sexuality with you, until I know she is okay with this."

"Look, Delorme-"

"This isn't something you get to do, John," she interrupts him, and the use of his given name makes him stop short. She draws a slow breath and lets it out loudly. Look away, for a moment, her teeth worrying at her bottom lip.

"You shouldn't have told me," she murmurs and rubs a hand over her face before she looks at him again. Her face softens at the confused expression on his. "This isn't your thing, John. You don't get to out anyone, even your own child. Kelly told you this, in confidence. This isn't something you can talk to other people about, not without her explicit permission."

He swallows, hard. Inclines his head.

"I didn't think of that," he murmurs. "I thought... I mean, it's, you."

"I am going to ignore that particular comment," Delorme frowns at him. She shifts and leans forward, to touch his knee briefly, before she withdraws her hand. "You need to ask Kelly, if it's alright for you, to discuss this with me. I'm not going to tell her, that you outed her to me, but don't do that ever again, alright?"

He inclines his head and nods, slowly.

"I'm, sorry," he murmurs and hears her let out a soft sigh.

"I know," she replies. "And I understand that you're coming from a place of concern, that you want to, do things right. But going around sharing your daughter's sexuality, especially to talk to someone she's expressed an attraction to, even if fleeting, that's... out of line. I'm sorry," she apologizes, her voice gentle. Hesitates, for a moment, before she continues. "And, as hard as it might be for you to hear this, as well, if you want to get this right, as you said," she says, her brows dipping, "don't lump non-heterosexual women together. I'm not gay, John. My lived experience is probably vastly different, from Kelly's. Assuming that I understand her perfectly and can help you, because I happen to be attracted to women as well, that's... mildly offensive, actually."

She gives a slight shake of her head and he frowns. Bites back a comment, and forces himself to take a moment, to digest what she just said.

"I, don't think this was a good idea," she adds. "I'm going to leave, alright? You don't have to see me out. And we won't talk about this again, until you've actually spoken to Kelly, okay?" she murmurs. He doesn't know what else to say, so he just nods.

To his surprise, Delorme inclines her head and gives him a soft smile. She gets up from his couch and grabs her jacket. Pauses, on her way out, to give his shoulder a gentle squeeze.

The next morning, he has an email, from her. With about a dozen links, to different websites, with Delorme's comments.

'I like this one, it boils complicated concepts down to make them more easily understandable and might be a good place to start out.' and 'I can't vouch for the correctness of this, because I am not gay, but a friend found it helpful' and 'Just in case you want to look into LGBTQ+ media' and more.

He thinks he owes her another bottle of whiskey for the effort.

* * *

He's only ever seen Delorme cry once. When Catherine died, when they'd found her body. He'd stumbled away from the scene, and she'd caught him then. Had stayed with him for a while, had driven him home and stayed at the house, so he wouldn't have to be alone. He'd seen the tear tracks on her cheeks after she'd gone to use the bathroom and stayed in there for a while.

She's eerily silent, now. Sits next to him, in the plastic chairs. Leans forward, her elbows resting on her thighs, as she rubs the thumb of her right hand over the palm of her left, over and over again, while she stares straight ahead, unseeing.

Roche's partner is leaning against the wall, uniform shirt stiff with blood. It's an upside of their uniform colors, John thinks, that blood splatter doesn't show up on black. Not as much, anyway, when it's still wet.

"You want some water?" he asks her. Watches Delorme's face, as she slowly blinks, and tears her eyes away from the spot on the lino floor she's been staring at for the past hour or so. Manages to look at him for a second and shake her head no, before she returns all her focus on that spot.

Dyson tried to get her to go home, but Delorme wouldn't leave. John thinks he understands. If that were his, whatever, he wouldn't want to be anywhere else, either.

Roche's partner gets a fresh uniform during hour three. It's taken his housemate that long to go home and grab it. John sees Delorme flinch, when he pushes himself off the wall and goes to find a restroom, to change in private. It's weird, how she hasn't said a single word to the guy. Usually, she'd be all gentle reassurance that they did their job, that they couldn't have protected their partner. But she's been absolutely silent, ever since they've sat down to wait on news from the OR.

He thinks he actually dozes off, for a few minutes. Delorme suddenly moving wakes him, and John jerks awake. Rubs his hand over his face as he stands with her.

"Annabelle Roche?"

"Annabelle," Delorme corrects, using the French pronunciation of the name, her voice gentle. It feels strangely intimate, the way she says it, and John swallows hard. Reaches out to touch his hand to her back, between her shoulder blades, just to let her know he's there.

"Right," the doctor nods. "We've managed to stop the bleeding, get two of the bullets out. She's, had us scrambling, a few times. She was coding, when the ER received her, but they got her back. She flat-lined again, while we worked on her," he continues and John feels Delorme tremble slightly beneath his hand.

"We got her back, but because of her massive blood loss we had to make a decision as to how we were going to proceed. She still has one bullet inside of her, but at this time, it's not as big a concern as stabilizing her is. We're going to keep her sedated, see how she does tomorrow, and then we'll discuss further proceedings," he explains.

"She's," Delorme starts, her voice hoarse and barely audible. She has to clear her throat and John sees her close her eyes for a moment. "She's alive?"

"Yes," the doctor confirms. "She's in the ICU, right now. Seems to be pretty stubborn, really, holding on for as long as she did. I've rarely seen such extensive injuries and had a patient live past the ambulance ride."

"Doc," John murmurs and gives a slight nod towards Delorme, who's visibly shaking now, her hands curled into tight fists at her sides.

"Oh," the man murmurs softly. "Uh, we don't allow contact with such critical patients," he goes on. "But if you want to see her, a nurse can take you up in a bit, you can look through the window."

"Thank you," Delorme nods, before she turns and walks back to her chair. Sits down again and John shakes the doctor's hand, before he returns to her side.

"She's gonna be fine," he tells her. Keeps his voice soft, even though she's stopped shaking now. Has gone back to rubbing her thumb across her palm as she stares off into space. "I'll go up with you in a bit, alright?"

Delorme swallows loudly. The motion of her thumb stops, and her face twitches briefly, before it crumbles, and John watches as she completely falls apart in front of him. Hides her face in her hands and begins to sob loudly, her entire body shaking.

"Ah, hey," he murmurs and wraps his arms around her. Feels Delorme melt against him, her face turning into his chest as she clutches at his shirt. Feels her tears soak through the material as she cries and cries, barely able to breathe between loud sobs.

* * *

He looks up from his report when there's movement in the corner of his eye. Sees Delorme set down a mug of coffee onto his desk, before she sits down in the chair next to it.

"Thanks," he murmurs and takes the mug, glancing into it. It's not entirely black, a little splash of milk having been added to it. First sip he takes, it makes him close his eyes for a moment in silent appreciation.

"Your brew?" he asks and Delorme hums in assent. There's like, two people, in the entire precinct, who manage to make decent coffee with their crap machine. Delorme is one, and surprisingly, McLeod's the other. But McLeod's been in Toronto the whole day, so he didn't make this pot, so really, that only left Delorme.

"Something on your mind?" he inquires when she stares into her own coffee, her brows creased a little.

"Huh?" she mutters and looks up, surprise in her eyes, before she gives a slight shake of her head. "No," she sighs and reaches up to rub her hand over the back of her neck. "Just, stuff," she shrugs. Leans back a little and crosses her legs. Takes a sip of her coffee.

"How's PT going?" he asks carefully. Delorme showed up dead tired to work the other day, and he might have ripped her a new one. Had laid into her pretty badly, before he'd seen the tears pool in her eyes. He'd taken her aside then and sat her down and tried to get her to talk. It turned out, Roche just started physical therapy, and had been in so much pain, Delorme basically stayed up half the night trying to comfort her and make her a little more comfortable.

"Better," she nods, frowning. "I think they've reached an understanding. I think her therapist, they didn't consider that she's a police officer. That she's bound to grind her teeth and to try and get through the pain, instead of asking for a break. It's better, now. She actually tells them, when they're pushing too hard, and her therapist is keeping a closer eye on her reactions."

"That's good," he nods.

"Yes," Delorme agrees. Searches his face, for a moment, a soft expression on hers. "I wanted to tell you," she starts and squares her shoulders a little, "you did a really good job, today. Talking, to Malcolm, I mean," she adds, at his slightly confused expression.

"Oh," John breathes. Ducks his head a little, in embarrassment.

"I mean it, John," Delorme says and he feels her touch his knee briefly. "What you said to him, about it never changing how you felt, about your own kid. That's exactly what he needed to hear, in that moment."

"It's the truth," he shrugs. Chances a glance at her, and is surprised to see sadness in her eyes.

"I know," she nods. "That's what makes you a great dad," she adds. Looks away, for a moment, her jaw working.

"You didn't say anything," he murmurs. "About your own parents, how they reacted."

Lise swallows thickly and gives a shake of her head.

"It wouldn't have been anything good," she admits.

It makes him swallows, hard. He sets down his mug and reaches out to touch her arm. Keeps his hand there, for a moment. Gives it a gentle squeeze and lets the touch linger.

"I think they, forgot," Delorme frowns. "I mean, I told them, about being bisexual. I even explained how it was more likely, that I end up with a woman, because of how my attraction works... And then I met Josh, and we got engaged, and then married, and I think they honestly forgot about all of this," she shakes her head, a self-depreciating chuckle leaving her.

"Do they know?" he asks, his voice low. "About Roche?"

Delorme sighs and rubs a hand over her forehead.

"Yes and no," she frowns. "They know I'm seeing someone, know that it's a woman. They don't know her, personally. I, uh, I invited them, for dinner, you know?" she says. "So they could meet, could get to know each other... They didn't show. I called, they said something came up. Said I was welcome, to come over, for dinner at their place... I don't know what it was, but something made me ask, if I could bring Anna. My mother, she was silent, for a whole minute. And then she said that it would be better if I didn't," Delorme murmurs. "I haven't talked to them since."

"I'm sorry," he tells her, not knowing what else there is to say. He is; he is so sorry that her parents reacted like this. And he's angry, as well. Delorme, she's, she's a good person. She is a great cop, good investigator. She has a moral compass, she doesn't let people intimidate her. Stands up for what she believes in, and for the people she loves.

"Me, too," Delorme nods, a rueful smile flickering across her features.

* * *

They're leaving the boxing ring after one of their matches. It's become somewhat or a regular thing, between them. Going to the ring, exercising for a few rounds, sometimes going up against each other.

He draws a deep breath of the spring air, when Delorme reaches up and runs a hand through her hair. And he freezes in his steps, staring at her, completely stunned. She continues on for a couple more steps before realizing he's stopped. Turns around and gives him a questioning look.

"Are you coming?" she asks and John swallows thickly. Nods and quickens his pace a little, to catch up with her.

The sun is sitting low on the horizon, dousing everything in soft golden-pink hues and reflecting off any available surface. Such as the thin golden band now decorating Delorme's left ring finger.

He has no idea when it first appeared. He hasn't noticed it before, has never seen her toy around with it, or anything like that. He does remember, faintly, that she never wore a wedding band while still married to Josh.

"Did you get hitched?" he asks her when she opens the trunk of her car, to stow her gym bag. Delorme freezes and slowly turns around, her eyes wide.

"What?" she breathes and John shifts, motioning towards her hand. It makes her look down, her eyes widening in surprise. She blinks and then looks up at him again, before breaking out into soft laughter.

"Non," she finally says with a shake of her head. "I didn't, get hitched," she tells him, her head tilting slightly. "Did you honestly just notice?" she asks, amusement dancing in her dark eyes. He swallows, then gives a curt nod.

"Yeah," he admits, frowning at his own absent-mindedness. He probably should have caught on sooner, when she first started wearing it. Whenever that was.

"I thought you were ignoring it," Delorme grins and shakes her head again, clearly amused.

"So, I'm guessing, she asked?" he inquires and sets down his own bag.

Delorme's face softens, her eyes sparkling as she lifts her hand and toys with the ring for a moment.

"She did," she murmurs, her voice soft and filled with happiness. "Three weeks ago, actually," she adds and John splutters.

"Three weeks?" he repeats, shocked. Three weeks. And he only just noticed the ring. Jeez, what a detective he is.

"I've only been wearing the ring for a week or so," Delorme shakes her head and leans back against her car. "I had to get it resized, it was too large," she explains.

"Family heirloom?" he guesses, and is surprised when she swallows before giving a curt nod.

"It belonged to her aunt," she tells him. Tilts her head slightly as she searches his face. "I was going to tell you," she says, and he realizes with some surprise that her words make him relax a little. Make something in his chest loosen.

"It's fine," he shakes his head. "I just... I feel like an idiot," he admits. "That I didn't notice. I'm sure McLeod and Szelagy did," he says with a frown.

"Szelagy, yes," Delorme confirms. "On the first day, actually. I'm not so sure about McLeod. He seems to be looking everywhere but me, when we're talking these days," she adds with a chuckle, causing John to let out a laugh himself. The guy thinks he's still in the doghouse with her, for one of his offensive remarks. John thinks Delorme is over it, has been for days, though she seems to enjoy making the older man squirm.

He swallows and looks away for a moment, gathering his thoughts.

"Fall wedding?" he suggests and looks at her just in time to see Delorme pull a face.

"No thank you," she shakes her head. "We were thinking, late May," she tells him and he feels his eyes widen.

"That's in a month," he points out and she laughs again, happiness dancing in her eyes.

"I know," she says in a mock-whisper, letting another chuckle escape before she shakes her head and sobers. "Honestly, though, neither Anna nor I are big fans of huge wedding parties," she says, her brows dipping slightly. "And, uh, given that the guest list will be limited, a month is plenty of time, to organize."

He feels his brows furrow with confusion.

"Why would you have a limited-" he starts, but breaks off when Delorme pointedly raises an eyebrow at him.

"Aside from my parents not being on board with the fact that I am divorced, let's just say they have a certain, opinion, of my current relationship. One that I don't wish to repeat," she says, an angry edge to her voice all of a sudden.

"Well," he starts and clears his throat a little, "you still got to invite the precinct," he says. "I mean, you didn't honestly think you'd get away with getting married and not inviting us?"

To his surprise, he sees tears pool in Delorme's eyes before she looks away and blinks rapidly. He hears her draw a ragged breath as she kicks the asphalt before straightening and squaring her shoulders.

"I wasn't," she murmurs. Watches him intently, before she opens her mouth again. "Actually, I, uh... I wanted to ask you, if you'd be... mon garçon d'honneur?"

"Honor... what?" he asks, frowning in confusion.

"I think you guys call it groomsman," Delorme offers, her brows furrowing. "I know I'm not a groom, but I don't really see bridesmaid working out, for you," she adds, her lips tugging into a nervous smile. She looks down and shuffles her feet, her shoulders moving as she draws a deep breath. "I, I'd really, like you there, John."

"I'd be honored," he tells her, his voice thick with emotion. "To be your... garçon d'horreur?"

"Honneur," Delorme laughs. "I am hoping it won't be a horror, but who knows," she adds, a thoughtful expression crossing her face.

"Hang on," he says, realization dawning on him, "does that mean the service will be in French?"

"Yes," Lise nods. "I know it would mean a lot, to Anna, to get married at St. Vincent, but there is a chance we'll have to look for an alternate location."

The French church's name makes him wince. Not because he doesn't like it. He's been there a handful of times, and it's a beautiful building. They belong to the Catholic Church, however, and as open-minded as some of the congregation might be, there is the fact that Lise used to be married, before, and got divorced. And is now looking to marry another woman.

"Maybe you should reconsider, that fall wedding thing," he tells her with a self-deprecating smile. "I think I'll need more than a month, to get my French up to speed."

"Ah," Lise nods. "Maybe," she allows with a slight tilt of her head. "But, uh, May sounds better. Less time, for something else to happen," she adds at his confused look. He sees her throat work as she swallows, remembering that awful day Roche got shot on the job. It's been seven months, since then, and she is back at work. It was, however, a painful reminder as to the dangers of their profession. One that has been lingering, especially with Delorme, Cardinal thinks.

"Guess I better dig out my dictionary," he sighs with fake annoyance, and manages to draw another smile from her.

"We'll go over everything, I promise. You won't have to do much, and I promise I'll practice with you."

"Sounds good to me, then," John nods. Holds out his hand, to her. "I'm very glad to be your, garçon d'honneur."

Delorme swallows and slowly reaches out to take his hand. Holds it, for a moment, as she looks into his eyes.

"See," she whispers. "You're already getting better at this."

* * *

He'd thought that it would be sad. You know, to attend a wedding when the families of both parties wouldn't attend.

It's not. Actually, Cardinal thinks he's never been to a more joyful one. He'd figured that maybe, it would be tense, to have the seats reserved for family be empty, but then he realizes that they aren't. Instead, they're filled with friends, and people from the precinct. Roche's partner, and John, and Dyson. Szelagy, and Arsenault. There are others, people who aren't cops, who are friends with either both of the brides, or at least one of them.

He's rarely seen Delorme as happy, he muses, as he watches her dance with Roche, the two grinning at each other and exchanging soft kisses.

He doesn't miss that his daughter spends about an hour chatting to one of the other guests, before she gets dragged onto the dancefloor.

It's been better, between them. He doesn't feel as stupid as he used to. Thinks that, even though he's still learning, he's mostly doing right, by his daughter. She seemed, nervous. After she first told him, about being gay. But this visit, she's been more relaxed. Has been laughing and joking with him. Even told him, about a date she went on. Nothing came of it, but she'd seemed happy, nonetheless. And he thinks he understands that. This feeling, of being young, of enjoying the search for love.

"Enjoying yourself?"

He turns his head and blinks when he finds Delorme standing next to him.

"Yes," he nods, his gaze returning to the dance floor, where Kelly is currently being twirled around by another guest. The same one she'd been talking to earlier. He supposes that she's pretty, this other girl. And his daughter seems to be having a rather good time, laughing with her dance partner.

"Come on," Delorme declares and takes his hand. It makes him startle and he looks down at her hand before his eyes find her face. She's smiling, a knowing look in her eyes.

"Stop staring at them," she lowers her voice slightly. "They're having fun, and I am not letting you glare Rayleigh into submission."

"Rayleigh?" he repeats, his brows furrowing slightly.

"John," she sighs with a slight shake of her head. "Either you are going to dance with me, or I will get McLeod to tell you all about his new theory pertaining to who is responsible for our latest arson case," she threatens, making him groan. Anything to escape another of the man's ill-advised attempts at profiling.

"If you insist," he sighs and allows her to pull him to the dancefloor. Once they're there, he finds he's actually lost track of his daughter. Lise shakes her head at him as she looks up when they start to move to the music. It's only a few seconds, before the current song fades out, and a new one starts. It takes him a moment to recognize it, and when he does, John lets out a soft laugh.

"What?" Lise asks, her brows dipping in confusion as he chuckles to himself.

"You used to hum that melody," he tells her. "All the time, when you first started going out with Ro- Anna," he corrects himself. Delorme tilts her head slightly, a smile settling on her face.

"I like it," she tells him. "It kept getting stuck in my head..." she shrugs, blushing slightly.

"What is it about?" he asks her. At her surprised expression, he gives a shrug. "I never paid much attention to the lyrics," he admits. "And really, my French isn't good enough to pick out anything else but 'belle'."

"It's _'T'es belle'_ , by Volo," Lise explains. "It's basically someone talking about their lover, and how beautiful they are all the time, no matter what they do," she says, ducking her head slightly in embarrassment.

"Ah," he murmurs, tilting his head to listen to the words, and grinning when he realizes that Delorme is mouthing the words silently.

"Maybe you should have danced with your wife, to this one," he teases her. She lets out a soft laugh at his words and shakes her head a little.

"We did," she tells him, lifting her eyebrows in a suggestive expression. It makes him let out an exaggerated groan and he steers them in the direction of where Szelagy is currently dancing with Annabelle.

"Help me," he mock-whispers to Anna. "Your wife's being very, sappy," he adds, at her confused look.

"I guess they're allowed to, today," Szelagy grins, twirling Anna before he bows and lets go of her hands.

"There you go," he says, motioning towards Delorme, who slowly lets go of Cardinal's hands and takes her wife's before leaning in for a chaste kiss.

"You think we will ever stop teasing her, about today?" Szelagy asks, and John lets out a laugh.

"Not a chance," he confirms at the slightly horrified looks of both brides.

_fin._


End file.
